


Puzzlement

by fivefootnothing



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-08
Updated: 2009-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-02 21:39:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fivefootnothing/pseuds/fivefootnothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing the Doctor can't understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puzzlement

He fathoms the nature of infinity, the delicate clockwork governing timestreams and history. He wanders the universe setting events to their proper course in Time. A single man and a handful of companions influencing the cosmos. His acts are noble, his reasons just, his impact undeniable.

So why the off-kilter cadence of his hearts when bare skin brushes against bare skin? Why does his body tense at the slightest hint of an embrace? Why do his hands always steal into his pockets when they could rest in the grasp of another? Why does he strive to keep others an arm's length away?

All heroes are cowards. He hides this behind labels: restrained, reserved, dull; the truth is that he's afraid, afraid of the things which truly sustain life throughout the universe: affection, fondness, attachment, love. Oh, he willfully acts as champion for them, he will defend them, but he still does not fully understand with blazing clarity the power of such things. He recalls he once did, in previous lifetimes, several centuries behind him, but memory and experience do not equate understanding.

Each Time Lord incarnation is a full life, a fact which those who do not have regenerative abilities often fail to grasp. An incarnation is born with the knowledge of the previous selves and builds upon that throughout his lifetime, but each self also evolves along his lifespan. Each self must learn (more accurately relearn) firsthand the pains and pleasures of existence through new eyes, new temperaments.

Perhaps that is why he surrounds himself with those who instinctively know. The young, the naive, the innocent, the human. Many times, he is as much student as mentor. Remove the companions and there is only the man, forever stunted in his growth, stalled in his development. Existing but not living, a product of the universe but not an active part of it. Never changing, never evolving, never learning.

Love's lessons are raking his insides raw. From his friends he relearns true affection, but Death tends to thieve them away. The first, a literal loss. Another departs to learn how to halt Death, and another finally acknowledges that Death follows in his wake and is chased off, terrified.

He remains guarded, simple acts of touch (a held hand, a freely-offered hug) stay awkward and infrequent. Love is currency, and he is the worst sort of miser. What he cherishes most, what he finds most difficult to give away, is the one thing he doesn't fully comprehend.


End file.
